Behind The Glasses
by Jello-Shots
Summary: Throughout his musings about his competition it was blatantly obvious that there was a common trend that separated Kyoya from the rest of the host club. They were kind. Compassionate, helpful warm fuzzies, the lot of them. It made Kyoya sick. R
1. Banana Peel

Haruhi Fujioka knew the moment she spoke that she would regret that moment for the rest of her life.

She continued to stare blankly up at him, despite the painful emotional turmoil yet raging inside of her. She was confused. Thrilled, exhilarated, elated to an unprecedented degree, but still she was confused, and for Haruhi: a girl so oblivious that she put Tamaki to shame, confusion would always prevail. He was not himself. That was what she had told herself at least. Kyoya Ohtori did not equate the satiation of lust to currency.

First of all, it was almost laughable to imagine Kyoya having any manner of lust at all. He simply seemed too cold. He was too controlled. He was just too Kyoya.

Secondly, the idea of anything as mere as physical gratification being ample compensation for thousands of yen spent on gift baskets was preposterous at best. In Haruhi's mind it was completely out of the question.

It wasn't like she didn't want this. True, her affections had originally wandered and rotated around the host club, searching for a suitable companion, but she found that it was hard to tear herself away from Kyoya. He was so much more real than the rest of the club. He was the only one who really seemed to be her same species.

Clearly she had enjoyed it. The dimmed lights, the softness of the sheets beneath her, and of course Kyoya, were straight out of a daydream for her. But even in her daydreams, she could not have come up with his eyes. It wasn't as if she had never seen his eyes before. It wasn't as if she didn't love the eyes that she remembered, the eyes that haunted her dreams. It wasn't even as if they were substantially larger without his glasses on. They were simply more alive.

Even behind the mighty glass barrier of Kyoya's spectacles his eyes had the power to pierce her soul in a way she still couldn't fathom. Once removed, she hardly recognized him. They blazed with the splendor of the brightest star, yet still retained the eerie iridescence of a single flickering blue flame. They captured and enraptured her and for a moment she feared that she would be hopelessly disappointed in fireworks from then on, as they couldn't possibly seem any more interesting than a pocket lighter after the intensity of Kyoya's eyes.

And even as that fire consumed every fiber of her being, and even as his hand on her wrist was all the intensity of lightning without the horror of thunder, and even as her heart ached for this to be real, the calm, logical, oblivious, and painfully confused part of Haruhi could not be pushed aside.

"Kyoya wouldn't do this, because there are no merits in it."

And with that single sentence, Haruhi had condemned herself to hours and hours of tossing and turning in bed, clenching her stomach muscles, retreating into the fetal position in a desperate attempt to quell the feelings of regret that churned in her abdomen.

Still, she knew that she could never take back what she'd said. She did her best to move on. She tried to get close to Tamaki. She tried her best to fall for Hikaru. She deigned to fall into the beautiful silence that Mori had offered her. She longed to be seduced by the sweet serenity she found with Kaoru. She wished even to be coaxed into Hunny's adorable embrace. She loved all of them, and she could still feel her heart speed up when she thought of memories she'd had with each member of the host club. She supposed that she should just be satisfied with what she had. She was usually so good at that. She was ambitious of course, but she could take what she was given; and yet she could not help but pine after Kyoya.

She was once again reminded of that fact as she felt something very hard collide painfully with her forehead.

"MOTHER!! LOOK WHAT THESE UNSCRUPULOUS TWINS HAVE DONE TO MY DAUGHTER!!" was the last thing that Haruhi heard before her world faded to black.

* * *

"Haruhi?" Tamaki's hushed voice whispered as her eyes were bombarded with sparkles and rose petals.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, the first thing Haruhi recognized was Tamaki. His violet orbs watering with concern were impossible to ignore, even as strands of blond impeded her view of them. Her eyes darted to her left, where Hunny clutched his Bun-Bun and hovered over her nervously, Mori unreadable as ever, but kneeling right behind, eyes locked on her own. Kaoru was busy inspecting every inch of her carefully from her right, just behind Tamaki, Hikaru standing at her feet, staring pointedly at his shoe.

It was only after seeing Hikaru towering over her that if fully registered to Haruhi that she was lying on the ground.

She had been lost in yet another lengthy train of thought about that day with Kyoya when Hikaru's fist had somehow managed to collide with her face. She had been so entranced that she hadn't even noticed until it was entirely too late to do anything about it. It seemed the only thing more infinite than the amount of material that Kyoya managed to find in the Host Club that he needed to record was Haruhi's desire to listen to his endlessly clacking fingers on the keyboard and watch him as he typed it.

"Haru-chan! Haru-chan!" Hunny squeaked, launching himself at her, only to be caught in mid air by his lifelong protector.

"Why?" Hunny demanded, wriggling in Mori's grasp, torn between getting to Haruhi and turning to face the stoic giant.

"Wait." He said, and somehow managed, in that one word, to communicate that jumping on Haruhi right after she was knocked off her chair by Hikaru, having slipped on a banana peel whilst fleeing from Tamaki, might not be the best course of action.

"Thank goodness you're alright." Kaoru breathed, as if he hadn't exhaled properly since the impact, allowing himself to do so only once he had convinced himself thrice that both parties involved were alive and well. He then proceeded to run his hand through Haruhi's hair and draw her into a soft embrace. She did not resist, and Mori took this as consent to release Hunny, who wrapped his arms snugly around her waist and snuggled into her shoulder, and squeezed her tightly.

Tamaki stood, taking her hand gently, and helped her to her feet, where she found herself staring straight into a set of amber eyes that she knew could only belong to Hikaru.

"…I…I'm sorry." He whispered, immediately averting his eyes.

"It's alright." Haruhi said plainly, trying to force a smile out of the dizziness that still dominated her brain.

Seeming satisfied with that answer, Hikaru made his way over to his twin, revealing a mildly disinterested looking Kyoya right behind.

"It's good to see that you're alright, Haruhi. The customers will be arriving soon, and keeping them waiting would have resulted in a regrettably diminished profit margin." He finished his speech with a smile and a flourish. Haruhi's heart plummeted, reminded once again that he was only concerned about merits and profits. Nothing more.

Still, as Kyoya turned to meet the first wave of customers entering the door to the third music room, he pushed up his glasses and the glare receded revealing those beautifully vibrant eyes that Haruhi loved.

* * *

"WHAT?!" Tamaki had screamed, less than ten minutes preceding Haruhi and Hikaru's mishap.

"You heard us." Came Kaoru's slick tones. Hikaru threw the peel of the banana he'd been eating to the floor and continued, his voice identically sly.

"We want Haruhi to be cast as a belly-dancer in our Indian themed cosplay next week."

_**Tamaki's Inner Mind Theatre**_

_Haruhi, clad in a pink belly-dancer's outfit complete with make-up and veil turns away from Tamaki._

"_What's wrong, my beautiful Indian princess?"_

"_Tamaki-kun… I have to entertain my customers, but… all I really want is to dance for you."_

_Tamaki takes Haruhi in his arms and lifts her chin gently to look in her eyes._

"_Haruhi dearest, I too long for such a time."_

_Haruhi casts her eyes downward and tries to turn in Tamaki's arms._

"_But Tamaki-kun, even in this extravagant costume, you're always looking at the other girls."_

"_Fear not, Haruhi, it is my duty to charm them with words and roses, but my heart will belong with you always."_

_Haruhi buries her face in Tamaki's chest and clutches his shirt._

"_As long as you love me, that's all Haruhi asks for."_

_**Curtain Closes**_

"I WILL NOT HAVE IT!" Tamaki screeched, shaking his head and clutching his hair in a desperate attempt to rid the images that plagued his brain. He could not, would not, think of Haruhi that way. She was his daughter…wasn't she? He shouldn't be thinking about his child that way. He had begun to question more and more his fatherly affections toward the Host Club's newest member, but without another reason to explain his feelings for the girl, he felt he had no choice but to keep his original ideas. At least until further evidence arose.

"I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU HELL-SPAWNED DEMON TWINS TO OGGLE MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER!"

Pulling an enormous mallet out of his impossibly voluminous pockets, Tamaki sprinted after the twins, hammer held high and ready for action. Seconds later, however, he noticed that Haruhi, the very person he was fighting to protect, was directly in the line of his pursuit. Haruhi seemed to be completely distracted, and Kaoru and Hikaru were running too frantically around the club room to notice that she was potentially in the line of fire.

"Haruhi!" Tamaki shouted, hoping to draw her out of her reverie in time, but alas, it was not meant to be.

Hearing Tamaki's cry Hikaru clenched his fists and turned mid-step, only to slip on his own inconveniently placed banana-peel. Before he had time to fully comprehend the situation, Hikaru's fist had already collided with Haruhi's face.

Tamaki looked like he had run into a brick wall, and all color except blue was drained from his face.

He looked to Hikaru.

Hikaru's eyes widened and flickered in shock from his own fist, to the red mark rapidly appearing on Haruhi's forehead, and back again.

He looked to Kaoru.

Kaoru turned on his heel sucked in a breath, immediately inspecting Hikaru's offending appendage for any kind of damage.

He looked to Hunny.

Hunny gasped audibly and ran over to where Haruhi had been knocked off her chair, his plate tumbling to the ground cake and all.

He looked to Mori.

Mori's brow furrowed visibly, and before he had realized that the senior moved he was right behind his classmate at Haruhi's side.

Finally Tamaki looked to Kyoya.

Although the reactions from all of the members were dramatic; although those of Hunny and Mori could even be considered intense; although Tamaki was flustered by the severity of the situation and didn't have time to linger on the thought, Kyoya's reaction had had by far the most impact on Tamaki.

Kyoya's eyes had widened, and he had dropped his notebook.

* * *

Kyoya wasn't thinking about his profits. Nor was he thinking about his fingers flying across the keyboard of his PineApple laptop. He didn't have to. Years of conditioning had allowed him to type up his ledger and stare at the glaring luminescence of the screen without ever donating it the slightest consideration. His mind had wandered to its new favourite hang-out. The venue that it had decided to inhabit so disturbingly often lately was none other than the Host Club's Natural Rookie.

She wasn't good enough for him.

He wasn't good enough for her.

It didn't matter how you looked at it, they simply didn't deserve each other.

Haruhi was a commoner. He was practically royalty. His blue-blooded nobility could not be tarnished by the courtship of a commoner marring his record. No. It simply wouldn't do.

Regardless, she would never be interested in him. Why would she? She had Tamaki, first of all, falling over himself to be better than his childlike idiocy would allow because of his feelings for her. He was eloquent and loquacious and lavished her with compliments. His feelings for her were so strong that he could not properly comprehend them as those of romantic love. They confused him, so he had no choice but to console himself with ideas of "fatherly affection." Once he came around to his true feelings, he would adorn her further with bold declarations of love and devotion. How could he compete with that kind of audacity?

Then there were the twins. Primarily there was Hikaru, clearly making every attempt possible to land himself in her good graces, but there was also Kaoru, softer and gentler than Hikaru, but with all the same charm and appeal. Even more so, if she played her cards right, or more accurately, if she allowed herself to be won over quickly: before they separated themselves too completely, she could probably even land herself a two-for-one deal. Though Haruhi never really bought into the whole "brotherly love" act, it would be hard to pass up an opportunity like that.

Mori clearly had a leg up on Kyoya when it came to romance, despite their apparent similarities. Neither of them were as outspoken as the other three, and in many respects they were easily comparable. Mori, however, had the advantage of being the "protector" of the Host Club. His silence was kind and comforting, and his soft side was evident thanks to Hunny and their cute, if a little quirky, relationship.

Hell, even Hunny had a better chance at getting with Haruhi than he did. He was adorable for gods sakes, and despite his looks and childlike behaviour, he was eighteen and could easily demonstrate qualities of maturity were he so inclined.

Kyoya folded down his laptop and stood with a sigh, picking up his ledger and writing out his profit predictions for the afternoon. His pencil seemed to move on its own, and as the glare from his glasses obscured his eyes, he fell back into his internal analysis.

Throughout his musings about his competition it was blatantly obvious that there was a common trend that separated Kyoya from the rest of the host club. Even setting aside their arguably better looks and varying levels of devotion, the problem was clear. They were kind. Bubbly compassionate warm fuzzies; the lot of them.

It made Kyoya sick.

Kyoya cared about Haruhi deeply; much more than he would ever admit. She compelled him to do things. Things he had never thought he would ever feel the need to do before. Selfless things.

It scared the living shit out of him.

Even if Kyoya was the kind of person to attempt so-called random acts of kindness, he really couldn't. If he honestly believed that by demonstrating acts of charity he could somehow find a place in the young girl's heart, he would be handing out cash in a heartbeat. It was made clear to him, however, when the host club had gone to the beach, that his fears about changing his behaviour were completely justified. She did not believe that he would, or even could, have any feelings for her of a romantic nature. She saw exactly the image that he had strived so hard to project. She saw him exactly the way he wanted her to.

And he hated it.

Still, if she could not see how he felt about her, he felt absolutely no need to alter that situation. She would go on being oblivious, thinking him cold, heartless, and mean. He would go on hurting every time she looked at him with that disdain, or even worse, fear in her eyes, pining away as she was pursued by other men.

What better way to spend his time?

No one knew about his feelings for the Host Club's newest member, and he would ensure that no one ever did know. He would keep up the façade. After all, he'd been acting this way for years. What was another day in the life? Still, nothing could have prepared him for the awe inspiring terror that was struck into his heart when Tamaki's scream of "Haruhi!" caught his attention.

Hikaru running. He made a fist. He stepped on the banana peel. Hikaru's fist and Haruhi's face made quick, forceful contact, but in Kyoya's eyes, it couldn't have happened more slowly.

His eyes widened, and he couldn't believe, let alone process, the unimaginable pain that he felt in his chest as he watched Haruhi's slight form fall to the floor. In his immediate shock and concern, he instinctively rushed forward, and his notebook fell to the floor.

In a second the entire Host Club stood around her, and it became painfully clear to Kyoya just how unnecessary he was to the youngest host. Of course, he would always be crucial to the club itself. The idea of the other five trying to organize events and manage the budget the way he did was absurd. He almost laughed. Almost.

As if finally realizing the sin that he had committed, Kyoya bent down and carefully collected his notebook before turning back to look over Hikaru's guilty shoulder as inconspicuously as possible. He couldn't ignore the part of him that ached to see Haruhi in pain, but he had his image, his reputation, his pride to think about. The minute he saw her face to face he forcibly choked out some half-assed line about her injury being a hindrance to profits to keep himself in line.

Still, he couldn't help but let a little sincerity slip out into his smile when he realized that she was alright, and he was almost certain that when he glanced back and pushed up his glasses; he was almost certain that he'd seen a little more than the usual sparkle in her eyes.


	2. Abort Mission

Kyoya Ohtori loved his glasses.

Put simply, they made him who he was. They told the world before he even had a chance to speak that he was intelligent, cool, and composed. They protected his weakness with their uncannily strong tendency to hide his eyes with glare. It was a strong commentary indeed on his attachment to the host club that they had seen him without his glasses on. He seldom took them off except when sleeping.

Still, most of the host club had only seen his eyes when they had woken him up. His eyes, unencumbered by the mile wide barrier of glass and wire, unleashed the coldest glare the club had ever seen, and said barrier was promptly replaced. With his glasses reinstated, they then proceeded to push him around without fear. He wished, at that moment, that his eyes had remained bare. Perhaps he could have avoided the unfortunate circumstances at the commoner's mall that had followed.

In retrospect, however, he noticed that without Tamaki's blatant disrespect for his privacy, he would not have had the opportunity to spend the day with Haruhi. Had he been armed with wallet and cell phone, he would have let the infraction slide. He wasn't, however, and thus Tamaki was put through purgatory.

Then too, he had been weak. He had allowed a young girl's influence to alter his pattern of behaviour. He had helped an old lady, later taking refuge in the fact that she was very wealthy, in some ridiculous hope that it would convince Haruhi that he was in fact capable of kindness. He chose to believe that he had left some kind of a mark on her, especially when she had compared him to Tamaki. It was true, Tamaki was a blundering idiot whom he usually wanted absolutely nothing to do with. However, he was also his biggest competitor for Haruhi's affections. To be so openly compared to the president in such a manner was flattering to say the least.

He had hope.

But even before that day, Haruhi had seen him completely revealed. He wasn't naked, but he might as well have been. He'd done it himself. He had removed his glasses. He still had no idea what he had been thinking. Life was different without his glasses. Sure, there was the obvious change that things were sort of blurry, but everything felt more real without his glasses. He could see her, only inches away from his face, and he knew that she could see him. If his eyes were the windows into his soul, his glasses were the blinds, curtains, shutters, and iron bars all rolled into one. He liked it that way. Of course he longed for her to see more of him. Of course he treasured that moment of simple purity, but he knew it couldn't happen again. His soul was imprisoned for a reason, and he could not, would not, let it break free.

* * *

It occurred to Kaoru that perhaps they were all wearing glasses.

Kyoya, with his outwardly cold and disinterested attitude virtually never removed his glasses, and that was simply who he was. Haruhi's glasses had been forcibly removed when she entered the host club, and her entire image to the outside world had been changed in that moment. Hunny's glasses were almost as seldom removed as Kyoya's in a sense. He was eighteen for crying out loud, and yet he hid behind his adorable eyes and voice and overall cute manner of comportment. Mori's glasses rested in his silence. There was so much of him to see; there had to be. For him and Hunny to have such a close bond, there must be more to the gentle giant of the host club than saving people and monosyllabic responses.

Hikaru's glasses were incredibly similar to those that he wore, and they had done this with good reason. They hid behind each other, behind the idea of their unity. They had tried so hard to be like one another, it was often difficult to decipher which traits had originated in which twin. It was only in stepping apart and revealing personalities without tending toward the middle that they truly took off their glasses.

Tamaki's glasses were thinner than most, he supposed. Because although the true nature of his feelings were obscured by a familial portrait, the feelings could still often be seen through the guise. He was attached to all the members of the Host Club, and his feelings were sincere, albeit improperly labeled. Although he stepped out from behind his fragile glass shield far less often than some of the other members, it seemed more forgivable since his shield seemed so sheer and so soft.

It seemed that they were all wearing glasses, and despite their various talents at seeing through their own and other's glasses, they all seemed loathed to actually remove them.

It was for precisely this reason that Kaoru had to brace himself against his brother as Kyoya reluctantly announced the theme of their next cosplay.

"W-Wh-W…. WAS RENGE BEHIND THIS?!" came Hikaru's incredulous reply. Perfectly on cue a high powered motor sprung into action beneath the host club.

"Oh ho ho ho ho ho ho! Oh ho ho ho ho ho ho!" came the cry of the devil they spoke of as she arose from the depths in a red wig with a ponytail that reminded Kaoru very much of Kasanoda, and an Ouran boy's uniform.

"No, you amateurs. Although I admit, the idea is splendid and delicious; it was not, in fact, one of my creations." Both Hikaru and Tamaki attempted to respond to this, but it was clear that Renge was now lost in a fantasy of her own otaku world.

"The immaculately handsome members of a club such as this exchanging roles for the sake of the beautiful young maidens experiencing pure out-of-character bliss! Renge could eat three bowls of this!" Renge squealed, quickly accompanied by a gang of hormonal fan girls screaming "Moe!" and being surrounding with swirling pink hearts.

"But, if Renge didn't think of this," Tamaki slowly pieced together, "Who did?"

All eyes promptly turned to Kyoya, attempting to burn a hole through his notebook in order to see which name he had written in the margin next to the club theme on today's date. Kyoya merely ignored them and turned away with a sigh.

Tamaki and Hikaru prepared to pounce when a single word from a stoic figure behind them froze everyone in their tracks.

"Haruhi."

Kaoru turned to look at Mori in time with Hikaru, barely processing the word that he spoke. It made perfect sense. The only one who hadn't seemed outraged or even surprised at the idea had been the female, but at the same time, there was something inhibiting his train of thought.

It was Haruhi.

Haruhi simply did not suggest cosplays like this. He remembered her previous suggestions of food and animals, then reconsidered the "role-switching" proposal.

They could not have come from the same person.

This could not have been Haruhi's doing.

It simply did not compute.

Blue screen of death.

Who was general error and why was he reading Kaoru's hard drive?

The gears stopped.

The motor hissed.

Fatal error.

Abort mission.

ABORT.

ABORT!


	3. Ouran Host Club Identity Exchange

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan!" Hunny yelled excitedly, latching on to Haruhi's arm, "Who's going to be playing who?"

"Well…" Haruhi took a deep breath. Someone was going to kill her now, she was certain of it. She was immediately regretting her choice to suggest this cosplay, or any cosplay for that matter, but it didn't matter. If everything worked out the way she wanted, she would find what she was looking for in each of the hosts. It was going to be exhilarating. The teeny tiny little fan girl buried deep under layer after layer of books and responsibilities in Haruhi gave a shrill and excited squeal.

"Hunny-sempai, you will be playing Kyoya-sempai."

"Yay! I get to be Kyo-chan!" Hunny squeaked, impossible to discourage.

"Kyoya-sempai, you will be playing Hikaru."

"Very well." Kyoya said with a nod.

"Hikaru, you will be playing…me."

"Okay!" Hikaru said with a grin.

"Umm… I will be playing Kaoru. Kaoru, you will be playing Mori-sempai."

"Okay!" Kaoru said with an identical grin to Hikaru's, but with perhaps a little less enthusiasm.

"Mori-sempai, you will be playing…Tamaki-sempai." Haruhi braced herself for the screaming fan-girls.

"Ah."

"Tamaki-sempai, you will be playing Hunny-sempai."

"OKAY!" came Tamaki's enthusiastic reply.

As the club busied themselves preparing for the customers, Haruhi prayed that her plan would work, or at the very least, that she would survive today and live it down if it didn't.

* * *

And thus began operation "Ouran Host Club Identity Exchange."

Step 1: Wigs for everyone.

Step 2: Character portrayal study with Renge.

Step 3: New act partner familiarization

Step 4: Welcome the customers

* * *

It occurred to Mori that Haruhi could not have chosen more difficult roles for everyone if she had tried. He could not say if the young host had done this deliberately, she was just so damned hard to read. He liked observing the host club; he liked understanding people's motives and watching them interact, but this time, he just could not be sure. He finally understood what other people must feel like looking at him. He made a mental note to try to be slightly more expressive in the future.

Conveniently enough, that future was going to be much sooner than he had hoped. He had to be Tamaki. He had spent years observing his surroundings, and often in the last two years those observational skills had been honed in on the Suou, but to try to replicate his behaviour was a whole different story. Tamaki liked to talk. Tamaki, he thought, probably liked to hear his own voice even more than his customer's did. To put it bluntly, he was infatuated with himself. Still, Mori supposed that his placement could have been worse. At least in impersonating Tamaki he would not have to put on an act with any other person. For that he was grateful.

Still, he felt ridiculous with his obnoxiously long blonde wig (which kept getting in his eyes) and obvious violet colour-contacts. Who had violet eyes anyway? He was torn from his mental rant by one of his customers.

"Mori-sempai, won't you miss Hunny when you're doing this cosplay?"

Normally, he would have remained silent, to allow the girls to fantasize (they already knew the answer they wanted to hear anyways) or responded with his trademark "ah." He didn't like to talk too much. He never thought he was incredibly good with words, and he secretly feared he would stumble over them. He wasn't stupid. He didn't stutter, but he always feared others' reactions to his words. Words could offend. Words could be proven wrong. Words were tricky and dangerous things. For this reason, he only spoke when he needed to, or when he felt it worth the risk. He liked to stay silent, however, this time; he was trying to be out of character. Tamaki did not say "ah." What would Tamaki say?

"As long as you are with me, princess, I could never be lonely." He said gently, with as much sugar and romance as he possibly could. He expected that his voice still seemed at least slightly monotonous, but he gave it his best shot. Contrary to popular belief, he quite enjoyed engaging fully in club activities, and he especially wanted to do his best on this one. Haruhi had suggested it, despite her usual aversion to cosplaying antics, and he found he had developed a soft spot for the newest host.

"Aren't you sad that you won't get to eat cake like you do most days?" Another inquired. Mori had an idea for this one. Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her close to him, seeing both Mitsukuni and Haruhi stop and stare out of the corner of his eye. He used the index finger of his other hand to lift her chin slightly and he looked straight into her eyes.

"Fear not, my lady. Your words are full of the only sugar I will ever need." The girl swooned in his arms, and he lay her gently on one of the room's infinitely numerous couches, before returning to the horde of screaming fan-girls.

Yes, he would do his best to be Tamaki, if only for today.

* * *

Hunny was doing surprisingly well when one considered the implications of being Kyoya.

**Implication #1:** No cake.

In preparation for said sugar withdrawal, Hunny had wolfed down a couple dozen cakes extra during the training period, but he was not happy to be going so long without. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

**Implication #2: **No Takashi.

Although of all the members of the host club, Tamaki (thus in this instance, Mori) was the person with whom Kyoya (in this instance Hunny) interacted the most, he was still quite limited by Kyoya's unusually conservative nature of affection. If anything, Takashi would have to be the one blatantly throwing his arms around Hunny, not vice versa. Hunny knew Takashi very well, and he knew the chances of this happening; very slim. Although he had expected him to cooperate well with this cosplay, it still surprised Hunny to see the extent to which Takashi took his character portrayal. He was impressed.

Hunny knew that Takashi would be especially complacent for this particular act. This was part of the reason that he was putting up with the less than ideal implications of impersonating the Shadow King. Another part was that it was always fun to take part in their costuming and frivolous antics every week. On top of that, he too wanted to encourage Haruhi to continue being so outgoing. There was something about Haruhi that seemed different from his customers and Hunny enjoyed that. Of course he loved his customers; it was always fun to giggle and play and eat cake with all his friends, but sometimes with them he felt like a teddy bear. Sure, everyone loved him, but his actions were limited, and he was easily grown out of or left behind. On top of that, teddy bears are not meant, or allowed, to be complex. It wasn't that he wasn't satisfied being the adorable fun-loving child everyone saw him as. He loved that aspect of himself, but it was not all Mitsukuni Haninozuka was. He had the capacity to be mature… he just usually chose to behave otherwise.

It seemed that while Takashi had developed a soft spot for the young host, Mitsukuni had developed a tough one. He was free to be less squishy and cute, because although she saw how cute he was, she seemed to appreciate, as Takashi did, that he was in fact 18 years old. He got to show his customers this today. They would ooze over his eyes when they narrowed in menace. They would be thrilled by his dark nature, but when the end of the day came, his honey blossoms would return and the universe would revert back to the way it was. All would be well.

Now however, he had to be Kyoya, and it was proving to be slightly more challenging than he had anticipated.

**Implication #3: **No Bun-Bun.

All cute things had been removed from his surroundings. It was a trying experience. He missed his Bun-Bun, and he wasn't entirely sure if he trusted Tamaki with it, but for the time being, he would have to. He momentarily questioned his affection for Haruhi considering what she had asked him to do.

**Implication #4: **Glasses.

Mitsukuni had to admit that he had been surprised at just how uncomfortable Kyoya-style glasses were. The wig, he could deal with. It was strange, but he had fun with it. The glasses were crossing a line though. Although the glare created an excellent dramatic effect when he was being malevolent, they made the bridge of his nose sweat, they itched behind his ears, and he felt so distant. He could see people just fine, but it felt so strange to have this mask between the world and his emotions. It's not like he didn't mask his emotions sometimes with false happiness and other cute façades, but the glasses were so solid. They were painfully, ineffably, incredibly absolute. It was a lonely feeling.

He tried not to think about it too much.

Taking a breath to cool his voice, Hunny turned to the group of girls behind him and smiled as plastically as he could manage, trying to drain all sparkle from his eyes. "Seeing as our theme today is a character swap, we are happy to provide a color-coded map to the personality switches, along with before and after pictures of each host's transformation. This pamphlet can be purchased at a discounted price should you choose to submit a bid on one of the various costume items used." Being Kyoya wasn't so bad. Someone had to sell the crap that kept the club working smoothly.

He stood observing the acts going on around him. He had to admit, it was very entertaining. Still, he held back his laughter and bubbles, choosing instead to look forward coldly, taking notes incessantly in a pathetically bunny-less black notebook. His usual customers fluttered about the room, watching him from a distance. They watched with fervent excitement as he pushed his glasses up his nose pensively. He heard squealing behind him, and inwardly he smirked.

Suddenly, something on the other side of the room caught his eye.

He saw Takashi take one of his customers into his arms, fully embracing her and raising her chin gently to look into his eyes. He was so proud of Takashi. Usually he would be much too shy to attempt such an act. He was really growing up. Also, he saw in his peripheral vision that Haruhi was watching him as well. Takashi would be happy about this. Takashi had not quite come to terms with the fact that he was infatuated with Haruhi, but Mitsukuni knew it. Having her see his public displays of affection, so to speak, could only be giving him an ego trip.

Haruhi was a fascinating subject. Of course, Hunny thought, everyone in the Host Club adored Haruhi, save perhaps Kyoya. And it was clear that Tamaki, the twins, and Takashi had all developed romantic feelings for her of varying depths and intensities. Hunny was not entirely sure about this issue himself. She made his heart race, she made him blush, she made him stutter a bit every once in a while, but most frighteningly of all, she made him evil.

As he stared at the plain black notebook in front of him, it struck Mitsukuni that perhaps that was a bit extreme. It wasn't evil exactly, but she changed him a bit. She made him want to narrow his eyes the way he did when he pushed Kyoya's horrible glasses up his nose. She made him want to deepen his voice a bit and speak slowly. She made him want to be close to her.

Mostly, she made him want.

She made him want and want more and more, and he had no idea when these ridiculous urges were going to end. She made him want things more badly than he could remember ever wanting any piece of candy or any slice of cake. That scared him. Wanting anything that badly could drive someone to do unhealthy, even unkind things. Wanting anything that badly must be evil.

Still… this wanting… was it really love? Could it even be puberty finally kicking in? The loli-shota wondered what would happen to his place in the host club if he were suddenly to get taller. He had considered this carefully before and decided to wait and see how things played out. He knew how the others felt, and he himself was unsure. For that reason, he would at the very least allow the others to take their turns first. Even if it was love, he did not suspect that his wanting would be satiated if his "victory" was taken simply by being first. He supposed that he didn't really want to get what he wanted, unless what he wanted wanted to be got.

Being Kyoya for the day turned out to be a much deeper experience than his average day at the club. He had so much time to think, and no one to ask him about his mind wandering. People couldn't notice his eyes going out of focus behind the glasses that vexed him so. They left him to his thoughts, and his thoughts never seemed to leave him. He observed, and he pondered. It was rewarding, but he simply could not imagine being this deep and solemn all the time.

Hunny missed his cake and his Takashi and his Bun-bun, and he missed the screaming fan-girls, and he missed others seeing his eyes.

* * *

Tamaki was having fun.

Being Hunny, he realized, was not very difficult at all. He had to be cute, which was only one notch away from charming, so he didn't really have any problems there. He had to eat cake, which he enjoyed, and while he could never come anywhere near the abyss-like capacities that the senior somehow encompassed, he could definitely put a few of those confections away. He had to snuggle with Bun-bun, whilst being unimaginable careful not to allow anything to happen to it, lest the wrath of Mitsukuni Haninozuka be incurred. Finally, he had to hang around with Kaoru, which was quite pleasant in fact.

Tamaki found that despite Kaoru's unavoidable inclination to put Hikaru before anything or anyone else in the world, he had become quite good friends with the Hitachiin. Despite the fact that were it not for the different hair colors, the president would still not be able to tell the brothers apart, he found that Haruhi's observation was dead on. Kaoru definitely tended to be kinder and gentler when separated from his brother. He enjoyed this time that he had to bond with the younger student.

"Kaoru, would you like to have some cake?" Tamaki asked, putting on his best cute face.

"Ah." Came the deep reply. Tamaki was impressed that Kaoru could even reach such a deep pitch. A little taken aback, he quickly recovered, handing his "protector" a plate. Kaoru ate the cake silently, staring out the window.

Tamaki wondered how exactly he would decipher Kaoru's intentions if he had to ask a more complicated question. He immediately had even _more_ respect for the peculiar senior. All in all, Tamaki thought he had it pretty easy. He was so relaxed in his role, that he had time to observe the workings of the rest of the club. He was very amused. Everyone was so out of their boxes. He loved it.

* * *

Kaoru felt restricted.

It was hard for him to be separated from Hikaru and Haruhi like this. He always seemed to be latched onto at least one of them. Still, at least he had Tono. Tamaki was still someone that he interacted regularly with, so he at least had a piece of his comfort zone with him.

Still, he couldn't speak. He had to make his intentions understood with grunts and groans and single words when absolutely necessary.

He found it strange to be looking after someone the way he was today. Sure, he was used to the unfathomably close relationship that he had with Hikaru, but Hikaru was always taking care of him in their daily act of brotherly love. Hikaru would hurt him accidentally and have to fix things. Hikaru would try to protect him from the world. Hikaru would carry his bag when he got tired. For all intents and purposes, Kaoru was the girl. It was strange going into an approximately equivalent relationship, but having to play the opposite role. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, or even that he didn't understand the appeal of being the protector. After all, he was a man, and he had that basic instinct. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was that he seriously doubted that he could carry Tamaki on his shoulders.

* * *

Hikaru was uncomfortable, to say the least.

He was impersonating Haruhi. He was a boy dressed as a girl dressing as a boy, dressing as a girl. His head began to spin, and he realized that it probably would not stop spinning for the remainder of club activities. Despite being dressed as Haruhi, he was also dressed as a female. This was done specifically to cover the fact that she dressed as the only female in so many of their cosplays. It was made part of her character, and as such, he was wearing the traditional female Ouran High School uniform. It was uncomfortable.

He missed Haruhi. He figured he would converse with her at some point; he would kind of have to given their characters. Still, the young girl seemed suspiciously absent as the Host Club kicked into gear. The same could be said for the Shadow King, but that worried Hikaru considerably less.

Trying his best to be a "commoner" for his customers, and putting on his best feminine smile, Hikaru attempted to pour the tea without letting his ridiculously uncomfortable wig fall into the cups. Haruhi had not been joking when she'd said that her head felt heavy wearing a wig. The long hair to emulate her middle school years and the hideous yellow dress did nothing to ease his stress levels.

Additionally, he found out very quickly that it was a very lonely thing to be Haruhi. Sure, he supposed once Mori had finished wooing his customers he could, and would probably have to, go and talk to him, but hell, what would he say? Usually Haruhi was completely apathetic to Tamaki, and on top of that, he had no idea what kind of boundaries there would be in Mori's cosplaying. Certainly, he was going all out now, but what about later? Just how much could he expect from the gentle giant? He feared the awesome glomping wrath of the senior should he decide to give his "daughter" a hug. And how should he react? What would Haruhi say at that point? More pertinently, could he really bring himself to be that cruel to the Morinozuka?

He missed Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do in these situations. Sure, Kaoru tended to take Hikaru's lead, but that was when they were being devious and having fun. When they were being careful, action almost always followed a strange kind of mental cue that he always took from his brother. The twin knew what to do when they had to be compassionate and respect people's feelings. It didn't happen often that they were sensitive like that, but when it did, Kaoru was definitely in charge. He was lost. When he was lost, he tended to get short tempered and loud. Haruhi was _not _short tempered and loud.

He was confused and awkward and generally uncomfortable, and the day was only beginning.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, first of all, you guys should know that I don't really like putting in these author's notes, but I feel I should tell you that the day is not over. Haruhi and Kyoya's parts, along with the rest of the day's events will come in the next chapter. This is dramatic effect, and it's already pretty long, and it's killing me that I haven't updated in a while. For the record, the more reviews I get, the more motivated I am to write, and update, so please click the pretty little purple (but really kind of mauve) button at the bottom of your screen and tell me what you think.

Your obedient writer

Jello-Shots.


	4. Brotherly Love

Kyoya was not one to be intimidated.

He had faced down the wrath of his father, one of the most powerful men in all of Japan, without so much as a flinch. He had dealt with countless episodes of Tamaki's insanity and even faced the terrifying onslaught of both twins and Tamaki simultaneously. When he was five, he had been kidnapped by a business competitor of the Ohtoris and had stared down the barrel of a shotgun. Yes, that's right he had even survived direct threats against his person. Clearly, Kyoya Ohtori was one who could hold his own.

And yet here he was, unable to put in his stupid amber contacts because his hand movement was an 8.6 on the Richter scale.

This couldn't be that bad. He could justify his actions sixty-seven different ways, all of which preserving his "Shadow King" identity. He could not, however, allow those justifications to atone for the inevitable immediate implications of being Hikaru. First of which being, he would have to make sexual advances at Haruhi. It could not be avoided. Hikaru always made these advances, and Kyoya hated him for it at the moment. He would lose vast amounts of profits if he did not, and that would cause people to ask questions. They would ask questions such as, "Why wouldn't Kyoya be thrilled with something that could earn so much money?" and "Why would Kyoya be uncomfortable performing this act with Haruhi?" He could not afford these questions to be asked because he could not afford to answer. Neither could he afford to deal with the inevitable ramifications of not answering.

He had to do this.

Adjusting his wig, Kyoya looked himself dead in the now amber eye. 'I love Haruhi.' He told himself. 'NO, wait. _Hikaru_ loves _Kaoru_.' That is how it had to be. He was simply Hikaru. None of these feelings were his… and that made them acceptable. It has always been acceptable for the monstrous incest of the Hitachiin brothers to be displayed; in fact, it was more than acceptable. It was necessary. It was required. It was coveted by those creepy little girls, in Kyoya's mind the scum of the earth, who paid to be entertained every day. For today, he did not need to feel any guilt or exercise any kind of self-censorship.

Maybe this experience could act as a form of catharsis. Maybe he could purge this horrid emotional baggage from his system. This could be even more profitable than he had anticipated. Not all profits get written in his ledger.

* * *

When Haruhi emerged from her dressing room, she didn't look very different than she did most days. She was wearing the same Ouran uniform she wore every day. The only changes were her wig and her contacts. Now that she thought about it, this whole idea was stupid. There was no way that she and Kyoya could pass as the twins… but that wasn't the point. The point was that the customers got to see the hosts acting out of character, but still enjoy familiar acts.

But that still wasn't really the point.

The point was far more self-serving than that. Haruhi had made a decision. She had made a critical decision that she was determined to follow through with. She had made a little wager with herself. She decided that she would make this suggestion for a cosplay. She would suggest the Host Club Identity Exchange. She would do her very best to be Kaoru despite her inability to act. She would experience her moment of warmth, so to speak. Kyoya would be Hikaru, and she decided that she would be completely honest with him under the veil of Kaoru. She would show him all of her feelings, and if he suspected anything or confronted her about her feelings, she would be completely honest. If not, she would never speak of these feelings again, and she would try to concentrate on her studies.

She always concentrated on her studies, so that part of the plan wouldn't be hard. If worst came to worst and she absolutely needed some attention from a guy, she had the sneaking suspicion that someone in the Host club liked her. Usually she wasn't very perceptive about things like this, but she had a hunch. She didn't really know who it was, but something about the way everyone seemed to stop talking every time she entered the room over the past few weeks made her think something was going on. It didn't necessarily mean that someone liked her… it could be hundreds of other things… but the former was more convenient for her at the moment.

She entered the Club room and everyone else seemed to be in place. Hunny was adorably deplorable behind his Kyoya glasses. Tamaki was deplorably adorable with his little bun-bun and monstrous helpings of cake. Kaoru was stoic and calm watching over the Host club and taking care of Tamaki. Hikaru was hilarious in his wig and his skirt. Finally he knew what it was like. She mocked him slightly inside her head.

Customers were starting to gather around her, but she had yet to see Kyoya.

Suddenly, an arm snaked its way around her waist, and a hip bumped lightly into her own. It took her a moment to understand what was happening, but as soon as she fully grasped the situation, she slid her own arm around the foreign waist and fought back a blush.

"So," Kyoya started, "Who wants to play…"

"The Which One is Haruhi-kun Game?" Kyoya and Haruhi finished.

Screaming fan-girls seemed to spring up right out of the woodwork. Flames of moe erupted all around them.

"Um, the one on the right is Haruhi-kun, and the one on the right is Kyoya-kun?"

"You're right!" Kyoya and Haruhi chorused.

"Can I get anyone some tea?" Haruhi ventured. If all else failed, there was always coffee and tea.

"Yes please." Came responses from faceless customers. Haruhi turned to get a tray of cups when something warm caught her wrist.

"Let someone else get the tea." Kyoya said smoothly, pulling Haruhi's arm out behind her, stepping to stand at her back silently. "I can't stand to be apart from you any longer."

"Kyoya-sempai," Haruhi protested, not turning around, willing herself not to blink so her eyes would tear up. "Don't tease me like this…you know I have to leave…" Several customers began to cry. Slowly and reluctantly, Kyoya released Haruhi's hand.

"I'll be back soon, Kyoya-Sempai."

"Please…" Kyoya whimpered, golden eyes cast down to the floor. "Please, don't call me sempai. It's so formal and cold… with you I want to be comfortable and warm."

"Of course, Kyoya-s…kun." Haruhi left to retrieve the teacups, taking long deep breaths all along the way.

He watched her leave to get the tea and turned back to his customers. How was he supposed to entertain them while Haruhi was away? He couldn't just ignore them like he usually did and leave them to the other hosts… what would Hikaru do? Well… Hikaru wouldn't be without Kaoru to begin with, Haruhi would get the tea, but that mistake had been made and there was nothing that could be done.

"Aren't you going with Haruhi, Kyoya-sempai?" 'Damn,' He thought, one of the customers noticed their mistake just as he had. 'Hmm… I might be able to salvage the situation.'

"We have always known that there would be certain places that we have to go alone… certain places where we…I, cannot follow. He has to know that I will be here waiting when he gets back."

"Oh, Kyoya-sempai. Your love for Haruhi is so strong."

"We share a fraternal bond that can never be broken by the meek forces of time and space."

He offered a weak smile to the various girls grouped around him on the couches. He sat next to one of them and she fainted. Generally he did not enjoy this kind of proximity, but he would have to suck it up. This was what they wanted. He saw Haruhi approaching with a tray of tea. Finally. His heart began pumping much harder than it had just moments ago; he swore to himself.

She approached silently, so skilled that the tray did not clink at all as she walked. Practice made her this skilled, and she poured each cup, completely unnoticed by those customers who sat facing Kyoya. Kyoya watched the scene unfold. He felt odd, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

She poured the tea. They couldn't see her. They couldn't hear her. She reached around to offer them the tea. One of them stood. The tray was knocked from her hands. It spilled on her hand, her shirt, her shoes. Teapot and teacups clattered to the floor. Several of them broke. Her eyes closed. Her left hand retracted into her body. She gasped. She made a hissing sound as she exhaled.

He was at her side.

He bent down on one knee, completely ignoring the mess of porcelain and hot water just beside him. He took her wrist in his hands and his eyes began to water. He closed them and brought her slightly burnt index finger into his mouth. Were he completely conscious of the world around him, he would have noticed the customers' favorable reactions, but he wasn't, so he didn't.

"Ah, Kyoya-sempai." Haruhi said, taken aback by the Shadow King's display of affection.

He slipped Haruhi's finger gently out of his mouth and closed it, glaring up at her with tears in his eyes. His voice cracked as he spoke, "Why can't you be more careful Haruhi? Don't you see that you're hurting me too?"

Haruhi's heart pounded and she tried to react to his words without actually letting herself hear what he'd said. She tried not to believe him, and she tried not to believe herself when she knelt next to him and replied.

"I'm so sorry, Kyoya-sempai…Kyoya-kun. I would never want to hurt you."

His hand slinked into her hair, resting his palm just behind her ear, fingers curling around the nape of her neck, as if he was about to kiss her. He leaned in very close to her. If she'd tried, Haruhi could have kissed him simply by looking up. She absently counted his eyelashes as he closed his eyes and just barely touched his forehead and nose to hers. She fought to keep her eyes open, her mouth closed, and her face pale. She fought her heart to keep it calm. She fought the tears that welled up when she thought how much she would miss this. She fought her body for wanting to lean into his.

"Shhhh…" Kyoya whispered surprisingly tenderly. "Just… breathe… and let me… take your pain away." He spoke breathily and between each breath he moved his hands, his head. He imagined kissing her as he spoke, moving her and moving him so that if he leaned in just one more inch, he would be. His lips burned as he watched hers reacting to his movements. His nerves were on fire everywhere he would have felt her had he the courage to move forward those two and a half centimeters.

Haruhi visibly deflated at the loss of contact. She opened her eyes, and found that Kyoya was no longer beautifully and painfully close to her. There was no one in front of her, only the broken porcelain.

Kyoya knew something, someone, was approaching from behind. Hikaru appeared and began cleaning up the tea. The minute he was within earshot, Kyoya had forcibly removed himself from Haruhi's embrace and moved to put the tray away in a back room that most of the school did not know existed. In fact, some of the club members didn't even entirely understand the layout of the club room.

"Oh, thank you Hikaru-kun," Haruhi said, trying not to sound too disappointed. "I'm sorry, I dropped the tea and…" Haruhi began to get up, a few pieces of the teapot in her hands, and was met with Hikaru's eyes. She didn't understand what she saw in them.

"Don't worry about it." He offered her a smile, though he wasn't entirely sure he could spare it. She took it gratefully and gave a weak one in return.

"Haruhi." Came a deep, cold, and altogether frightening call from the background.

"Hunny-sempai?" Haruhi asked, not entirely believing that the loli-shota could produce such menacing vocals.

"That tea set was imported from England; we bought it from an exchange student whose family designs chinaware and has had an ongoing relationship with the Haninozuka family for several generations. The cost will be added to your debt."

Haruhi's knees felt weak from the shock. Hunny was adding to her debt now? She started to fall backwards, but Hikaru caught her with a blush.

"It's okay, I got you." He said softly.

Hunny ran over to her and whispered in her ear before the customers realized what he was doing. "Don't worry Haru-chan, it's just for the customers." With that he stalked off to continue his observations from the corner.

Hikaru helped Haruhi steady herself, bending his knees to look up at her, verifying that she was alright.

"I'm fine, really. I've been feeling a little faint today, and I guess Hunny's act really surprised me." It was true. She had been feeling faint all day, however, she wasn't about to admit that it was because of a certain Shadow King and a whole lot of doubt in her choice of cosplays. As if reading her mind, Hikaru suddenly realized that there were customers all around and they were watching. They were waiting.

Again he smiled, and spoke under his breath, "You're supposed to be Kaoru, aren't you? Since you can tell us apart, or so you say, prove it to me. Show me how he acts around you when I'm not there." Haruhi's eyes widened a little and with a wink he added, "Come on, it's your cosplay."

Kyoya returned from the back room, ready to begin another round of brotherly love. He was uncomfortable, it was true, but he was going to do this right, and earn as much profits as he could, in any form. He had another line running through his head, ready to be delivered. His eyes scanned the room for Haruhi, and he found her.

With half a smile.

Eyes full of love.

Looking at Hikaru.

His arm wrapped around her.

She embraced him back.

Perfectly molded to his body.

She spoke, but he couldn't hear the words. His ears rang. His heart fell. He spun on his heel and walked calmly into the back room. He leaned on a table to keep him up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses. Without stopping to wipe away the tear that ran down his face, he put his glasses back on.


End file.
